


Right Hand Man

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: A Supplemental Star to Steer By [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome back from your carbon freezing, <strike>Captain</strike> Commander Rex. By the way, we're at war. Report in to your new Jedi General.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Hand Man

Rex’s head is spinning so much, he almost wonders if the whole complex has somehow gone from battered by storms to actually afloat on the water. Everything has a sharp edge around it, and it’s not the last traces of carbon sickness.

War.

The word echoes around without being spoken, written on every brother’s face.

Sometimes, it’s more literal than he likes. It’s easy to tell who was on active duty when things started, because those brothers bear more than the usual scars. It’s not something from a vibroblade, or a lucky blaster shot. The Separatists have been using cannons, droids by the hundreds –

The amount of death already is terrifying.

The fact that no one can seem to give him a solid prediction for how long this might run is even worse.

The precautionary stockpiling of a clone army had always been just that – precautionary.

In all his twenty-five unfrozen years, Rex has never seen the halls of any of the clone facility so damn _busy_ , nor so fucking tense.

At least he has his orders, and those are reassuring.

Terrifying, bizarre, and thrilling, too, but he’s trying to ignore that.

Commander. He’s a damn _captain_ , not a commander, but his new orders are for him to meet up with a _Jedi_ , to meet his General – gods, pulled out of cryo and already assigned a _General_? – and fellow officers. He’s already had to hand in a list of names and numbers, requests for troops that he thinks might fill out those officer ranks which he, as the new fucking _Commander_ of the 501st Legion, has every right to choose.

He really has to wonder what the _fuck_ went so horribly sideways while he was in carbon freeze. 

Rex walks into the small briefing room and nearly falls over in relief. “Fives!” The younger brother – though he doesn’t look younger now; he must have been out of freeze longer – looks up from a datapad and grins at him.

“Damn, it’s good to see you.” Fives steps forward, and Rex has to reevaluate yet again. He’s the one who recommended Fives and Echo for the ARC program, back – fuck, he’s no good with time between freezes, not still addled from his stint. He’d been assistant trainer to several squads, and Domino had preformed admirably. Fives and Echo had stood out even more, and the three had struck up a quiet friendship off hours.

ARC training has been good to the man. Fives now sports a full goatee along with the jaunty tattoo on his temple, and he moves with a confidence and grace that only lots and lots of training can provide.

They share an armclasp then a hug, and Rex pulls back to give the man a once over. Fives has definitely been in the fighting, even though the war’s only been on for about three months so far. There’s worry lines around his eyes, but smile lines around the mouth, nearly hidden by that ridiculous beard.

The armclasp is wrong, though, something about the movement under the fancy new armor a little stilted. Fives sees his look and his expression becomes that sheepish, wry look Rex remembers from some of the messiest bungles he and Echo got into. “Bionic,” Fives admits, giving a sharp twist of the wrist that makes servos whine quietly as they stretch further, faster than they were quite intended to. “Picked it up about a month ago, so I’m still breaking it in.”

“Shiiit.” Rex shakes his head. “They need men badly enough they couldn’t take the time to graft a replacement?”

Now the look is slightly shifty, and Fives’ other hand drifts up towards the elbow – not just the hand got replaced, then. “I didn’t want to take the downtime. Bacta improvements don’t make up for the PT time.”

“Why the hell aren’t you the Commander of this outfit? You’re 501, right?” At the nod and awkward look, Rex rolls his eyes. “Love of the Force, Fives, you’ve pretty obviously been thawed longer than I have, _and_ you had ARC training and war field experience.” He waves the flimsiplast with the orders at Fives. “I’ve got some idiot’s misfiled promotion here to Commander under some Jedi, and as glad as I am that I’ve got you at my back –”

Unholy gods. Rex breaks off as Fives stands straighter, but looser, a lopsided smirk widening across his face.

His brother’s eyes go _blue_ , and Rex straightens to attention automatically. 

“Look,” a different voice says from Fives’ mouth, “I can keep calling you ‘Captain’ if it makes you feel better, but I trust Fives’ evaluation, and he swears there’s no one he’d rather have at _our_ back, and keeping the men in line.”

“Sir,” he somehow manages to say, his mind whirling between pride – Fives made it, he’s a gods damned _host_ , holy gods! – and disbelief – a Jedi wants _him_ leading a damn legion, and guarding his six.

How the hells is this his life? Carbon sickness isn’t supposed to come with hallucinations, so what the hell? How is this real? 

The Jedi seems to sense his mess of emotions, because the grin goes from snarky to gentle and the hand comes up again to wave off the formalities. “Look, this Sir business is a mess and I’m still looking over my shoulder to see who’s going to cause trouble for me. I’m Anakin Skywalker, though my master calls me Ani or ‘Oh gods what did you break now,’ so go with whatever level of casual you’d like.”

Inwardly, Rex snickers and rolls his eyes. Outwardly, he meets his commanding officer’s eyes. Rex raises his brows just a little, nods, and goes, “Sir.”

For a moment, the Jedi stares at him, expression professionally unreadable. Then the man grins, and it’s that wide, open smile again. “I can see why Fives wants you running things.”

**Author's Note:**

> Small edits were made August 27 to accommodate world building and slight contradictions with developing Star canon, so if this doesn't quite match what you thought, that would be why.


End file.
